


The One with Psyche

by SLq



Category: Durarara!!
Genre: Crack, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-25
Updated: 2016-02-25
Packaged: 2018-05-23 05:39:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,618
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6106726
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SLq/pseuds/SLq
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Shizuo finds Izaya in a strange predicament.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The One with Psyche

**Author's Note:**

> Repost.

It’s quiet.

In general, Shizuo enjoys silence. In a city as busy as Tokyo, the absence of noise is a rare pleasure. Moments lacking idiots bent on annoying Shizuo into fits of phenomenal rage are even rarer, what with his line of work and…eccentric circle of friends. The peace Shizuo seeks is most often found in solitude, at times in Kasuka’s presence.

Never, ever has a moment of peaceful silence occurred with Izaya in open sight.

“Oi, Flea,” Shizuo calls out, for the fourth - or is it fifth? - time. He taps the desk before him with his foot for good measure, setting two computers and a truly impressive amount of paperwork wobbling precariously.

Izaya Orihara, Informant extraordinaire and a pain in Shizuo’s ass, does not as much as twitch in his seat.

Shizuo tilts his head, examining the Informant’s lax body. Izaya’s eyes are closed, his face slack, his mouth soft with sleep. Shizuo marvels at how different the man looks with his trap closed. It’s a rare sight, made stranger by the absence of a smug smirk. Then Shizuo realizes he has been staring at Izaya Orihara’s _mouth_ and almost gives himself whiplash in his haste to look away. Damn Flea. Annoying even when unconscious. Perhaps Shizuo should just come back to pummel him later-

Shizuo’s train of thought derails as his mind processes the sight before him. Izaya’s computer is staring at him.

Large eyes blink at Shizuo from within an unfortunately familiar face.

“GAH!”

Shock sends Shizuo careening backwards. He bumps into Izaya’s chair, sending both it and its occupant zipping toward the back wall. It is only Shizuo’s fast reflexes that save Izaya from breaking his skull open. Shizuo takes a moment to appreciate the irony of it all. His hands shake with barely suppressed rage where they clench around the chair’s hand rests, eyes narrowed on the Informant’s limp body. “What _the fuck_.”

“Oooh, you said a bad word!”

Shizuo whirls around. The arm rests come with him; Izaya’s body slumps further down in the leather seat.

“ ** _Izaya_** ,” Shizuo snarls, “What the fuck is this?”

Computer-Izaya frowns. Dark eyebrows soon smooth, however; the little shit goes as far as to giggle and clap his hands.

“Oh, I know! You think I’m Izaya-san, don’t you?”

“I don’t think,” Shizuo growls, “I _see_ it’s fucking you. I don’t know how the hell you did it, but if you think that you can–” Shizuo pauses as the full implication of what he is seeing strikes him.

A virtual Izaya.

Shizuo resolves to destroy every computer in Ikebukuro - scratch that, the entirety of _Japan_.

“-we’re quite different, really, Izaya-san has always been a bit self-conscious,” Computer Izaya is prattling. Shizuo tunes in only to tune out again in an act of sheer self-preservation. Izaya, self-conscious? His mind threatens to self-destruct at the mere thought.

Shizuo takes the two steps that separate him from the computer. “You have ten seconds to tell me what’s going on,” he grits out, “before I smash your stupid face in here, and then do the same to your head over there,” Shizuo motions to the comatose body still spinning gently in the chair behind him.

Izaya, damn him, does not seem at all worried. He blinks up at Shizuo, then cranes his neck to see around the debt-collector’s body. “Oh, that’s not good,” he comments. “It looks like Master has gotten lost.”

“That doesn’t sound like an explanation,” Shizuo points out. He clenches his fist meaningfully.

Izaya, damn him, grins. “Oh! Yes, sorry, ne? Don’t smash me. I don’t think my current version’s backed up anywhere else, and Tsuagru-kun’ll get mad if he has to re-code me again.” It’s Shizuo’s turn to blink. “I’m not Izaya-san,” Izaya carries on,  "My name’s Psyche - I am a….let’s say, computer program that Master - that’s Izaya-san! - created.“

Shizuo tries to wrap his mind about that for a moment. "Bullshit.” Izaya giggles again. “What the fuck, are you twelve?” Shizuo rages, “Stop giggling every time I fucking swear!”

Izaya promptly claps a hand over his lips. It barely does anything in muffling his mirth.

Shizuo, surprisingly, feels more exasperated than angry. It’s like dealing with a little kid - he can’t bring himself to truly get mad at the pink-clad child on the screen-

Wait.

“You’re wearing pink.”

Izaya brings his hand down. “Yup. It matches with my headphones, see?” he turns his head this way and that, showing off the large, fuzzy, pink monstrosity of headgear he has donned. “Cute, huh? I have ones shaped like bunnies, but I only wear those for Tsugaru. I am wearing bunny-print underwear, though! Wanna see them?” Izaya’s face suddenly disappears as the camera angles downward.

“NO!” Shizuo screams and grabs the monitor, barely restraining himself from tearing it right out, “STOP! THIS INSTANT!”

Izaya’s face reappears. “Don’t yell.” His lips seem to be bunched in a pout.

Shizuo stares at the soft, expressive, fucking brattish face stretched across the screen before him. “You ain't Izaya,” he mutters.

“Nope! I’m Psyche!” Izaya - Psyche chirps. “Nice to meet ya!”

Shizuo opens his mouth. Closes it. His eyes wander from the computer screen to Izaya’s unconscious body, trail back up to Psyche’s cheerful face. “Computer program?” he tries.

“Yup,” Psyche confirms.

“That he made.” Shizuo stabs a finger in Izaya’s direction.

“He wanted someone to talk to,” Psyche shrugs. “So he made me, and Delic, and Tsugaru-kun, and Hibiya, and Kanra-chan…” Psyche counts off on his fingers, seems to mean to go on. Shizuo, meanwhile, is starting to feel faint.

“There’s more of you?” he asks. In his mind’s eye, a room full of Izaya look-alikes twirl sharp knives and prey on unsuspecting teens in questionable chat-rooms.

“Yes, but not all of us are like me. Take Tsugaru-kun,” Psyche says; Shizuo thinks that the little shit might be a bit obsessed with this Tsugaru-person, given how often he mentions him, “He is tall and _big_ ,” Shizuo shudders at the dreamy sigh Psyche makes out of that last word, “and blonde and…you know, he kind of looks like you!”

The world stops so suddenly, Shizuo’s ears are left ringing. “What.”

“I was wondering about Tsugaru’s base-model!” Psyche beams. “I am very happy I got to meet you!”

Shizuo wonders if this is what a heart attack feels like.

"He looks like me," he repeats.

" _Exactly_ like you." Psyche frowns, eyes squinting at Shizuo's face. "But less vein-y. You should get that checked out."

Shizuo feels his temples pound. “You and this Tsugaru are…together? Romantically?” Psyche nods happily. “And Izaya knows about it?”

“Of course. He watches us sing sometimes,” Psyche tells him.

Shizuo prays to every god he knows that _sing_ is not an euphemism for anything.

“Alright,” he says, because - really, why not. He should not even be fucking surprised that Izaya has found yet another way to mess with him. “What’s wrong with the Fle- Izaya.”

“Hmmm,” Psyche hums. “Hard to say without any physical output. Let me check the logs.” Shizuo is a bit unnerved to see Psyche’s eyes go blank, his body fall still; like this, he does look like nothing more than a computer avatar. The debt collector finds that he does not like it.

Thankfully, it is no more than a couple of seconds before Psyche blinks aware. “It seems Master was updating Kanra-chan right before his feed cut off,” he says. “Perhaps she will know what’s wrong! Let me get her.” He is gone before Shizuo can so much as open his mouth, leaving the screen an empty blackness.

Shizuo turns away. Izaya’s chair has stopped spinning some time ago, leaving the Informant resting still and silent before his worst enemy.

“Did you do this on purpose, you damn Flea?” Shizuo mutters.

Izaya does not answer. His face no longer looks soft with sleep. Slack and empty of Izaya’s sharp personality, it seems almost-

Shizuo shrugs off a sudden chill.

“So you are Shizuo Heiwajima.”

Shizuo whirls around. A sour female face glares at him within the computer screen, brown-red eyes narrowed in suspicion. Her hair is cropped short and styled with an edge, black strands falling like blades to frame pale skin.

It takes a moment for Shizuo to realize that he is looking at a female version of Izaya.

“Kanra?” he asks faintly.

“That’s Karna-san to you,” the woman sniffs. Shizuo bristles, but - like with Psyche - cannot bring himself to rage over her behavior. Women and children, huh. If Izaya found out, he’d exploit the shit out of that weakness.

“Are you going to stare at me all day?” Kanra demands. “I have better things to do than hold one-sided conversations with simpletons.”

Shizuo grits his teeth. Maybe if the woman in question is Izaya, the could be persuaded to be less scrupulous…

“Sorry, Kanra nee-chan!” Suddenly, Psyche’s face appears on the screen. He appears to be hugging the woman, judging by Kanra’s sudden stiffness. “We need your help!”

“So you said.” Kanra ducks out of Psyche’s arms, ignoring the resulting pout with completeness that speaks of practice. “Does this have anything to do with Izaya-sama hiding in my interface?”

“Master’s here?” Psyche screeches at the same time as Shizuo demands, “Let me talk with the bastard!”

Kanra regards them both as one might road-kill. “Yes. He does not seem to be aware of where he is, however. I have so far been unable to extricate him.” Her face darkens as she adds, “He is messing up my coding.”

“Poor Master,” Psyche warbles; Kanra rolls her eyes. “Can we help him?”

“I believe so.” Kanra focuses on Shizuo. “You. Bring Izaya-sama closer.”

“Why the fuck should I?” Shizuo snarls. “Not like I care what happens to the fucker!”

“Language,” Kanra scolds. “Bring Izaya-sama closer, or I will find a way to stick his sorry soul in every cell phone you ever own.”

Shizuo holds the woman’s glare a moment longer before giving up. He cannot gamble against such horror. Plus, the faster Izaya wakes up, the sooner Shizuo can beat him back into unconsciousness.

Izaya does not make a sound as he is wheeled forward. He does, however, almost fall out of his seat. Shizuo fists a hand in the Informant’s t-shirt and drags him back into the chair, satisfied to hear the fabric tearing. Hah. Serves the bastard right for always destroying Shizuo’s clothes.

“If you are done undressing him,” Kanra drawls, “mind sticking that cable over there in his mouth?”

Shizuo forgets his scandalized reply to the first part of that sentence in lieu of addressing the no-less scandalizing second part. “I’m not sticking anything in his mouth!”

Psyche’s giggles neatly cover Kanra’s sigh. “Look,” the woman says, “he was tinkering with the hardware while coding, because he is an idiot, and electrocuted himself. I am guessing that the nature of our programming allowed him to somehow pass from his body into our code. In order to force him back, I need a pathway to his body. Now,” she snarls, and the computer screen darkens, “grab the red cable and put it in his mouth.” In the background, Psyche whimpers.

Shizuo crosses his arms over his chest. “No.”

“Every cell phone you ever own,” Kanra reminds, “Until the day you die.”

Shizuo drops his hands, grabs the red cable, and sticks it in Izaya’s mouth together with three of his fingers.

“Good. Now, hold it,” Kanra mutters. A moment later, her face goes as blank as Psyche’s had when he had been checking the computer’s logs. Shizuo looks away from the screen and continues to press the cable between Izaya’s (soft, warm, fuck _wet_ ) lips.

“Done!” the woman claps. Shizuo glances back at the screen, just to see Kanra disappear in a glitter of pixels.

“Nice to meet you!” Psyche coos. The little psycho blows a kiss Shizuo’s way before he, too, disappears. Shizuo wishes he had not heard the pink fluffball mutter, “Tsugaru-kun, wanna stick something in _my_ mouth?” before he had done so, though.

Well. At least it is all over now. Shizuo sighs and wonders what his life has become. Perhaps he should move out of Tokyo. Too much strange shit goes down here.

“Shizu-chan, if you wanted me to suck you,” a muffled, snarky, fucking _familiar_ voice vibrates around his hand, “all you had to do was ask.”

Shizuo’s fingers leave Izaya’s mouth with a wet pop. “That - I –”

Izaya spits out the cable and stands up. He groans, cracks his neck and rolls his shoulders before fixing deep burgundy eyes on Shizuo.

“I could hear you, you know,” he says, staying Shizuo’s pathetic attempts at a sentence. “While I was in there,” he motions toward the blank computer screen.

“Look here,” Shizuo snarls, hackles rising. How dare the damn pest rag on him after Shizuo had saved his sorry ass-

Shizuo finds his anger well and truly demolished as soft pink lips cover his. He had not even seen the man move! “Wha-” Shizuo tries to say, but the word only opens his mouth to more of Izaya’s insane attack: A small, agile tongue thrusts between Shizuo’s teeth, sliding over Shizuo’s own before curling around it in a burst of sensation. Shizuo moans and thrusts up with his hips hard enough to bounce Izaya along his front. The resulting friction is enough to have them both groaning.

“You…have…no idea,” Izaya moans in Shizuo’s ear. He pauses to suck the blonde’s earlobe in his mouth, smirking at the broken sound Shizuo lets out. “How much porn…they haa–ah!” Izaya throws his head back as Shizuo’s teeth scrape down his throat, finding the spots that have his blood rushing and his dick rising.

“Who?” Shizuo mumbles, not really caring. He grabs Izaya’s ass and lifts; the Informant takes his cue and wraps his legs about the blonde’s waist, holding tight as he is carried toward the sofa.

“Psyche and…mhm…Tsugaru,” Izaya moans.

“Don’t go moaning other guys’ names, Flea,” Shizuo growls and bites at an exposed collarbone. Izaya laughs and presses into the pain.

“Mm, possessive. Not sure I like,” he goads.

“Don’t care,” Shizuo sucks at a rounded shoulder blade, pulls the t-shirt further down to expose Izaya’s chest. The fabric gives up with a sad ripping sound.

“Neanderthal,” Izaya scolds fondly, then continues his whining, “Folders. _Gigabytes_ of porn, featuring them. Video, pictures - ” Izaya shivers, drops to grind in Shizuo’s lap. The debt collector thrusts up and the conversation derails for a few blissful moments. “I was lost in there for _hours_!”

“Good thing I found you,” Shizuo comments and sticks his hand down Izaya’s pants.

“ _Yes_ ,” Izaya moans, not protesting at all as his jeans meet the same fate that had befallen his shirt, “My knight. Or should I say, monster?”

“I’m about to shove my fingers up your ass,” Shizuo growls and pushes a finger between Izaya’s lips with a quiet command for the man to _suck_. “Watch your mouth.”

Izaya smiles around his finger.

Then he bites.

“ _Son of a_ -”

 

* * *

“Shizu-chan,” Izaya mutters, later.

Lying in the wreckage of what had once been a couch, Shizuo groans. “Shut up.”

Izaya sighs and turns on his side, facing Shizuo. His eyes are closed; for a moment, Shizuo thinks he has fallen asleep.

“Thank you,” the Informant mutters, so low Shizuo barely hears it, even as close as he is to the other man.

Shizuo stretches an arm and grabs the back of Izaya’s head. Izaya’s eyes pop open, body tensing with a sudden surge of adrenaline, but the blonde only draws him closer.

“Shut up,” Shizuo repeats.

Izaya hides a smile against Shizuo’s side and does just that.


End file.
